The Birds' Christmas Carol: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A LITTLE SNOW BIRD.
It was very early Christmas morning, and in the stillness of the
dawn, with the soft snow falling on the housetops, a little child
was born in the Bird household.
     
They had intended to name the baby Lucy, if it were a girl; but
they hadn't expected her on Christmas morning, and a real
Christmas baby was not to be lightly named--the whole family
agreed in that.
     
They were consulting about it in the nursery.  Mr. Bird said that
he had assisted in naming the three boys, and that he should
leave this matter entirely to Mrs. Bird; Donald wanted the child
called "Maud," after a pretty little curly-haired girl who sat
next him in school; Paul chose "Luella," for Luella was the nurse
who had been with him during his whole babyhood, up to the time
of his first trousers, and the name suggested all sorts of
comfortable things.  Uncle Jack said that the first girl should
always be named for her mother, no matter how hideous the name
happened to be.
     
Grandma said that she would prefer not to take any part in the
discussion, and everybody suddenly remembered that Mrs. Bird had
thought of naming the baby Lucy, for Grandma herself; and, while
it would be indelicate for her to favor that name, it would be
against human nature for her to suggest any other, under the
circumstances.
     
Hugh, the "hitherto baby," if that is a possible term, sat in one
corner and said nothing, but felt, in some mysterious way, that
his nose was out of joint; for there was a newer baby now, a
possibility he had never taken into consideration; and the "first
girl," too, a still higher development of treason, which made
him actually green with jealousy.
     
But it was too profound a subject to be settled then and there,
on the spot; besides, Mama had not been asked, and everybody felt
it rather absurd, after all, to forestall a decree that was
certain to be absolutely wise, just and perfect.
     
The reason that the subject had been brought up at all so early
in the day lay in the fact that Mrs. Bird never allowed her
babies to go over night unnamed.  She was a person of so great
decision of character that she would have blushed at such a
thing; she said that to let blessed babies go dangling and
dawdling about without names, for months and months, was enough
to ruin them for life.  She also said that if one could not
make up one's mind in twenty-four hours it was a sign
that--but I will not repeat the rest, as it might prejudice you
against the most charming woman in the world.
     
So Donald took his new velocipede and went out to ride up and
down the stone pavement and notch the shins of innocent people as
they passed by, while Paul spun his musical top on the front
steps.
     
But Hugh refused to leave the scene of action.  He seated himself
on the top stair in the hall, banged his head against the railing
a few times, just by way of uncorking the vials of his wrath, and
then subsided into gloomy silence, waiting to declare war if more
"first girl babies" were thrust upon a family already surfeited
with that unnecessary article.
     
Meanwhile dear Mrs. Bird lay in her room, weak, but safe and
happy with her sweet girl baby by her side and the heaven of
motherhood opening before her.  Nurse was making gruel in the
kitchen, and the room was dim and quiet.  There was a cheerful
open fire in the grate, but though the shutters were closed, the
side windows that looked out on the Church of our Saviour, next
door, were wide open.
     
Suddenly a sound of music poured out into the bright air and
drifted into the chamber.  It was the boy-choir singing Christmas
anthems.  Higher and higher rose the clear, fresh voices, full of
hope and cheer, as children's voices always are.  Fuller and
fuller grew the burst of melody as one glad strain fell upon
another in joyful harmony:
          "Carol, brothers, carol,
              Carol joyfully,
           Carol the good tidings,
              Carol merrily!
           And pray a gladsome Christmas
              For all your fellow-men;
           Carol, brothers, carol,
              Christmas Day again."
One verse followed another always with the same
glad refrain:
          "And pray a gladsome Christmas
              For all your fellow-men:
          Carol, brothers, carol,
              Christmas Day again."
Mrs. Bird thought, as the music floated in upon her gentle sleep,
that she had slipped into heaven with her new baby, and that the
angels were bidding them welcome.  But the tiny bundle by her
side stirred a little, and though it was scarcely more than the
ruffling of a feather, she awoke; for the mother-ear is so close
to the heart that it can hear the faintest whisper of a child.
     
She opened her eyes and drew the baby closer.  It looked like a
rose dipped in milk, she thought, this pink and white blossom of
girlhood, or like a pink cherub, with its halo of pale yellow
hair, finer than floss silk.
          "Carol, brothers, carol,
              Carol joyfully,
           Carol the good tidings,
              Carol merrily!"
The voices were brimming over with joy.
     
"Why, my baby," whispered Mrs. Bird in soft surprise, "I had
forgotten what day it was.  You are a little Christmas child, and
we will name you 'Carol'--mother's little Christmas Carol!"
"What!" said Mr. Bird, coming in softly and closing
the door behind him.
     
"Why, Donald, don't you think 'Carol' is a sweet name for a
Christmas baby?  It came to me just a moment ago in the singing
as I was lying here half asleep and half awake."
     
"I think it is a charming name, dear heart, and that it sounds
just like you, and I hope that, being a girl, this baby has some
chance of being as lovely as her mother," at which speech from
the baby's papa, Mrs. Bird, though she was as weak and tired as
she could be, blushed with happiness.
     
And so Carol came by her name.
     
Of course, it was thought foolish by many people, though Uncle
Jack declared laughingly that it was very strange if a whole
family of Birds could not be indulged in a single Carol; and
Grandma, who adored the child, thought the name much more
appropriate than Lucy, but was glad that people would probably
think it short for Caroline.
     
Perhaps because she was born in holiday time, Carol was a very
happy baby.  Of course, she was too tiny to understand the joy of
Christmas-tide, but people say there is everything in a good
beginning, and she may have breathed-in unconsciously the
fragrance of evergreens and holiday dinners; while the peals of
sleigh-bells and the laughter of happy children may have fallen
upon her baby ears and wakened in them a glad surprise at the
merry world she had come to live in.
     
Her cheeks and lips were as red as holly berries; her hair was
for all the world the color of a Christmas candle-flame; her eyes
were bright as stars; her laugh like a chime of Christmas bells,
and her tiny hands forever outstretched in giving.
     
Such a generous little creature you never saw!  A spoonful of
bread and milk had always to be taken by Mama or nurse before
Carol could enjoy her supper; and whatever bit of cake or
sweetmeat found its way into her pretty fingers, it was
straightway broken in half and shared with Donald, Paul or Hugh;
and, when they made believe nibble the morsel with affected
enjoyment, she would clap her hands and crow with delight.  "Why
does she do it?" asked Donald, thoughtfully; "None of us boys
ever did."  "I hardly know," said Mama, catching her darling to
her heart, "except that she is a little Christmas child, and so
she has a tiny share of the blessedest birthday the world ever
saw!"

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